


Johbisai

by Katarik



Category: Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi | Spirited Away
Genre: Chromatic Character, Chromatic Source, Chromatic Source Creator, Chromatic Yuletide, Dark Agenda, Female Character of Color, Female Protagonist, Food, Gen, POV Female Character, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 19:23:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katarik/pseuds/Katarik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chihiro, making meals for the soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Johbisai

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cardamon_k](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardamon_k/gifts).



Usually Chihiro's tired enough to fall asleep easily, now that she's used to the rhythm of the bath house. But sometimes she just can't sleep, and she slips silently out of her bedroll and creeps down the stairs to the kitchens. Most of them are big, too big for Chihiro to dare go into, but Rin told her about the little staff kitchen. She won't be turned into a pig for eating from there.

She can reach the leftover rice without trouble, and Chihiro can fill the heavy kettle with water -- she only spills a little trying to pour. But the tea leaves are out of her reach. Chihiro looks at the jar, tucked into its cabinet. She looks at the counters she can reach, but not enough to climb onto. Her dad could get her the tea, or her mom. But they're not here.

She's pretty sure she saw a stool abandoned in one of the big kitchens, and nothing stirs or talks as Chihiro tiptoes in and carefully picks it up, hefting its weight and trying not to drop it as she carries the stool back. Clambering onto it, Chihiro climbs up onto the counter and retrieves the tea, scattering a handful of leaves into a bowl just as the water starts to boil.

She doesn't drop the jar, either. Chihiro grimly climbs back down and pours the water, then climbs back up to put the tea away and pull out a container of furikake (she's not sure what's in it, the jar isn't labeled and it doesn't look like any furikake her mom ever bought). She's not hungry anymore, but she started this and she's going to finish it, and Chihiro knows if she went back to her bedroll she'd wind up being hungry again.

Her best friend's mom used to heat the rice back up before making them chazuke, but Chihiro's not sure how to do that when there's no microwave. She thinks about it while she carries the stool back and wipes the counter. Chihiro can't see footprints in the dimness, but she bets Yubaba could.

The tea's hot, though, so when it's mixed in the rice ought to be at least warm... Chihiro opens the furikake jar, grunting with the effort, then shovels rice into a bowl patiently before she wraps her hands in a towel and pours tea over it, sprinkling a little furikake over the tea-scented rice and stirring it all together.

She jumps when she turns around, and hot tea spills over her hand, makes her gasp with the sting. Haku's at her side instantly, long fingers cool on her skin. "Chihiro? Are you all right?"

"I'm okay," she says back, flexing her fingers -- it aches, but it already hurts less. "You just startled me. Haku, when did you get here?"

"I saw you putting the stool back and followed you to see what you were doing," Haku admits, smiling at her, his teeth and face reflecting the light that filters through and pale against his dark hair. "I would have helped you, but you didn't need it."

Chihiro blinks, then smiles a little. "I didn't," she admits, and takes a bite of salty, warm chazuke, tipping the bowl to sip the hot rice-edged tea. "Want some?"

"Please," Haku answers, and sits down on the kitchen floor with her, eating chazuke and laughing until Chihiro can sleep.

***

Chihiro tucks the skewer in her mouth absently to hold it, gaze skimming over the newest recipe she picked up as she carefully tugs out her ponytail holder. Like always, she takes a second to look at it, reminding herself all over again that it glitters like nothing else she’s ever seen, that this was made for her by her friends. That she didn’t make it up. Then she redoes her hair, tightening the messy ponytail against the bite of the rain-scented wind tugging at it, and takes another bite of dango.

“Excuse me,” a low voice says behind her, smooth and quiet. Chihiro stills, barely daring to breathe. She knows that voice, though she hasn’t heard it in ten years.

“I’m looking for Ogino Chihiro,” he continues, every character deliberately enunciated.

Chihiro turns, and she smiles. Haku looks older, too. He looks tired, worn, but his slow smile is the same. She puts down her dango, shoving the papers out of her lap, and jumps up to hug him like she’s still the little girl with the pink shoe he met first.

“ _Haku_ ,” she breathes against his hair as his arms come around her, squeezing as though he hadn’t really believed he could. His true name comes out a whisper, too soft for anyone to hear and steal, barely stirring the strands her mouth is pressed to.

In her arms, Haku shudders, hitching in a gasp that comes out as Chihiro’s name and tightening his grip. She isn’t sure how long they stand there, her clinging to him and him clinging to her, before Haku’s grip begins to loosen.

Chihiro tugs him down, sitting again. She doesn’t ask where he’s been, if he’s cut himself loose, if he has another river, why he looks so _tired_ \-- she picks up the abandoned skewer of dango and offers it to him.

Haku blinks at her, then starts to smile again, leaning in to close his mouth over one dumpling, chew, swallow. Mitarashi sauce leaves a sticky streak on his lips.

She stays quiet when Haku starts to shake again when the dango is gone. Chihiro pulls him in, his head resting against her shoulder, fingers running through his seaweed hair (she thought she’d made that up, that his hair was nearly the shade of kombu) , and hands him another stick of dango.

“It’s good to see you again,” she tells him, when it’s gone and he’s relaxed.

Haku lifts his head, smiles again. His eyes are bright. “It’s always good to see you, Chihiro. I would be honored to have that recipe.”

Chihiro smiles back, a quick delighted grin. “Come home with me,” she tells him. “And we’ll make them together.”


End file.
